


énouement

by Dandybear



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Daddy Issues, F/M, Gen, Implied Selfcest, ending spoilers, universe hopping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandybear/pseuds/Dandybear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>énouement</p><p>n. the bittersweetness of having arrived here in the future, where you can finally get the answers to how things turn out in the real world—who your baby sister would become, what your friends would end up doing, where your choices would lead you, exactly when you’d lose the people you took for granted—which is priceless intel that you instinctively want to share with anybody who hadn’t already made the journey, as if there was some part of you who had volunteered to stay behind, who was still stationed at a forgotten outpost somewhere in the past, still eagerly awaiting news from the front.</p>
            </blockquote>





	énouement

**Author's Note:**

> Got the title and definition from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.
> 
> I kept deleting the other scenes from this. I think that after I post this installment I might be able to continue with a new chapter. It's supposed to span much longer with Elizabeth observing hers and Booker's various lives. Also hanging out with the Luteces.
> 
> Potential crossovers if I do choose to continue.
> 
> THIS IS WRITTEN IN SECOND POV.

Booker Dewitt lies dead at your feet. Your waterlogged dress seems to pull you down. Perhaps it wants to drag you in after him. He died so that Zachary Comstock will never live.

There are other yous in this room that is also a pool. You see a version that is identical to yourself, but without your jacket. You wet your lips to ask if she made the same choices. There's a version of yourself in the attire that you joined Booker wearing. You want to ask her if she drove a pair of scissors into the back of Daisy Fitzroy. Maybe she's from a universe where there were no guns?

You don't get the chance, because one by one they disappear. The version of you wearing more conservative clothes than you can ever remember wearing gives your arm a tight squeeze before becoming nothingness.

You wait.

And wait.

But you do not go.

They were variables. You are the constant. You scream in frustration and pound your fists against the water. The little tidal waves your rage makes probably creates some universe underwater or something. You miss Booker.

His body is wet and heavy as you pull it up from the depths. His skin is clammy and grey. You push your fingers through his hair. Your lips go to his temple to press a kiss and whisper a 'Goodbye'.

Then you run from the room as if being chased.

Down the stairs you run and lurch to a halt so as to not trip over the two people sitting on the stairs.

The Luteces, it seems, are taking a breather.

Robert leans with his elbows resting on the higher steps. His rain hat is off and protecting the back of his neck. Rosalind sits stiff and proper as ever, but smokes a cigar as she surveys the sea.

"Hi." You say.

They turn to look at you. For all their pomp and swagger, they look a little lost.

"In our own universes we never get to cross over and be with one another." Robert says.

"But we have, so we do." Rosalind adds.

"And that's why I'm still here too?" You ask.

"Yes..."

"And no."

"You exist because if you didn't, the fabric of reality would rip itself apart."

"Which would be fascinating."

"But catastrophic."

"Oh." You sit behind them on the steps.

The stars in the sky sparkle with unknown possibility. You rest your chin on your hands and ask,

"Now what?"

Rosalind breathes out a smoke ring before she responds, "Whatever we want, I suppose."

 

\--

 

The first place you go is to the universe where Booker and Anna are. You wipe away his debt a little more cleanly/messily than previous incarnations attempts.  
In short, you find the men he owes money to and show them the various ways you learned how to kill men from Booker.

Their underlings do not come knocking on the DeWitt door. Nor do the police feel the need to investigate the crime. They see it as a gift.Booker bottle feeds Anna and listens to a record crackle on the phonograph. You know this from listening with a cup pressed to the wall. You are a voyeur on your own life.

A different life. One where your father's greatest motivator is keeping you safe. Not locked up in some cage.

You seethe with envy of your infant self. It makes your pinkie ache.

"Of all the places in time and space to visit, I can think of few spots less inane." Robert speaks first.

They hover behind you, a pair. You turn to fold your arms and curl a lip.

"Yet you're both here with me."

The Luteces share a glance before lowering their shoulders.

"Truthfully, we've missed our hair shirt." You're surprised at Rosalind sharing this.

The three of you sit in the apartment next to your father's with cups pressed to the wall.

 

\--

 

You grow accustomed to their company and their quirks. Really, they're like the parents you didn't know were watching. During one of your tantrums, Rosalind brings you a glass of water. You drink it and breathe deeply. The anger disappates. Her mouth moves in that way that implies a smile.

"All better?"

"Not even close." But you try to return the gesture.

Robert is the more whimsical of the two. He juggles and paints and sees more point in the arts than his sister. He teaches you the uses of colour, tone, and shape. You have long talks about the importants of socks.

Such conversations have his counterpart rolling her eyes at the two of you. Pretending she doesn't love it.

Rosalind decides to be in charge of your physical education. She teaches you cricket and baseball. You still don't quite understand the former, but you can hit a ball out of the park.

Some nights when you're around a their parlour, or in the home of a dead philanthropist, or in an abandoned theatre, they will play the piano. You sing along. Rosalind and your voices blend nicely, or so Robert tells you.

Each time you bow for an invisible audience. They just choose to disappear.

 

\--

 

Anna is taking her first steps. You've purchased the house across the street from Booker and watch his actions through binoculars.

"While one babe is taking steps away from her father, the other is taking steps to be near him."

"Honestly, I don't see why you don't just go and talk to him."

"Perhaps in another world she does."

"Good point."

You grit your teeth at them and storm out. The tears open as easily as doors now and you need to be alone. Somewhere you can think.

So you open a tear to the end of one world. The silence seems to buzz and echo around you with the shadows of previous life. You sit on a rock that might have been a building once. Eventually everything will go back to the Earth. The ash in the sky flutters down like snow. It sticks to your dress and cheek. It gets too hard to breathe and you open another tear.

It's night by now and, judging from the advancement of technology, some time in the thirties.

The house resembles the one they had back on Columbia. It's two storeys and has a deck and lawn. The gate creaks as you swing it open and plod up the walk way. There's a rose bush that is either dead or alive when you return. It depends on the year. This year it's dead.

You kick off your shoes on the porch and wander into the house. There's a record on the phonograph and Rosalind is curled up with a copy of Twelfth Night. Robert's in the kitchen making poached eggs.

"You two don't even need to eat."

"Do not need to doesn't mean do not like to. And don't tell me you aren't hungry after your little adventure." Robert's apron says 'Columbia'.

"Shush. Now I've lost my place." Rosalind sighs.

 

\--

 

Your mother looks like you. Rather, you look like her. Her eyes are a shade of dark brown and you're not sure what you expected. You guess the blue comes from Booker's side of the family. Looking at a younger version of him, you definitely see the semblance in the eyes and brow. His nose is (was) a little less crooked.

He's sixteen if he's a day and packing up for South Dakota. His uniform looks scratchy and his face is a little too dark in the sun.

This is one of Comstock's victories and Booker's losses.

Except Comstock doesn't exist anymore.

He sees you across the river he's camped at and shades his eyes with a hand. He looks like he wants to call out to you. Your feet take you as far away as they can before you open and tear and don't look back.

The Lutece home looks more weatherworn than last time and the cars that drive by are unrecognizable. This used to be such a nice part of town.


End file.
